


i wanna be held like i'm fragile like glass (because i've never felt something like that)

by oncewewerezombies



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society (Homestuck), Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Anal Play, BDSM Scene, Background Relationships, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Chastity Device, Dirty Talk, Dorks in Love, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Enthusiastic Consent, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Gags, Human/Troll Relationship (Homestuck), Humiliation, Love Bites, M/M, Mirrors, Self Control, Sex Toys, Sweat, ponyplay, xenokinked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21900409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncewewerezombies/pseuds/oncewewerezombies
Summary: Equius has a good time with his human boyfriend.
Relationships: Dirk Strider/Equius Zahhak
Comments: 14
Kudos: 69
Collections: Bucket Swap 12th Perigee 2019





	i wanna be held like i'm fragile like glass (because i've never felt something like that)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BagtheBagisnotaBag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BagtheBagisnotaBag/gifts).



> You asked for Dirquius and I'm more than happy to deliver.
> 
> Happy 12th Perigee!

You're sitting watching a movie on the vast expanse of the extravagantly sized holoscreen that Dirk deems needfoal for any one of the 'classic' human movies you watch together, feeling the warmth of the alien body next to you and trying to understand the alien culture being paraded across the screen on front of you. It's not easy for you. Even understanding your own culture can at times, be an insurmountable obstacle in your life in a variety of small yet terrible ways. One of Nepeta's never ending goals is 'to make you better with people'. So far despite her ceaseless efforts, you remain mostly the same.

Still. You have more than just your pale quadrant filled now, and she'd reluctantly come to deem that something of a success. Not a complete success, because as she said at the time, 'he's almost as weird as you, just in a different and human flavour'. She's not wrong. Nepeta rarely is, when it comes to people. But you do work together very well, at least in your opinion. Dirk seems to think so too, since you've lasted this long together, so you suppose that's really all there is to say on the matter. Cadetship romances may not always work out, especially interspecies ones, but so far you're both doing just fine.

While you're sitting watching the movie, you feel Dirk move in closer to you, shifting against your side and you draw your attention from where it was meant to be, back to him. Raising an eyebrow slightly, enough to be seen over the edge of your shades. You know exactly how high to raise either eyebrow, for the best effect on the person you're aiming the expression at. Practice does make perfect, and you used to have a lot of time alone and you _had_ owned several mirrors.

"I was thinking," Dirk says, and then stalls out like a hiccoughing engine for a moment, tapping his fingers against your thigh. Just above where your shorts stop, and you can feel your eyebrow arching higher. You hum thoughtfully, to encourage him to continue. After a moment to gather his thoughts, he does so. "You know there's a few things we haven't gotten out of the chest for a while."

"Mm?" You want to see where he's going with this, so you don't say anything explicit. You turn yourself to look at him better, wanting to show your keen interest in wherever he's going with this. You know it's going to be something that you'll be willing, neigh, eager to entertain. "I hadn't noticed."

"Well, trust me...there's a few things," Dirk murmurs as he looks at you through the reflective barrier of both of your pairs of shades, and lifts his hand to rub his thumb over your lower lip, pulling it down slightly to expose your teeth. It's taken some time, but now you don't immediately feel the need to pull away and hide your broken, shattered fangs. You can't help yourself; you'll get frustrated and be trying to hold everything in, then clench your jaw too hard and - _crack_. At least your fangs do grow back, so it's not any kind of permanent damage. "And I got a few new things." Oh? _Oh_. Oh, that's very...interesting. You hadn't noticed any parcels arriving; not that that necessarily means anything - Dirk could have gone out physically to a store location and bought them. Or made them. The idea is positively scandalous, the mare thought has you sweating all of a sudden and you swallow a little, watching as Dirk's expression lightens in tiny, cryptic increments that you only notice because you're so close, and because you've made a habit of studying his every facial twitch. "And you just finished up that project..."

"Is that an intimation that I may find it hard to want to exert myself physically for a few nights, and that it is a good thing I have no current commitments?" you inquire as his voice trails off, because it seems only polite. His hand rubs at your jaw, sliding up along the line of your bones and into your hair. A deft tug and your ponytail is released, sending your hair cascading over your shoulders. Suddenly you're finding it hard to keep your eyes entirely open, with Dirk's warm fingers stroking in small circles over the soft skin behind your ear. Looking at you like that. Relaxed is probably the wrong word to use to describe the state of your emotions right now, but you feel - safe. 

"I'd say so, ponyboy." Suddenly the gentle hand turns harsh, strong fingers wrapping in the length of your hair and pulling your head up with a jerk. Your immediate reaction is to resist but you barely baulk, instinct reined back by the knowledge that this is Dirk and he'd never hurt you in a way you didn't like. Baring your throat to Dirk is not a threat to your safety; more of a gateway to indulging the desires you _both_ hold. He wants to control, and you desire to be controlled. On the pailing platform, at least. Things had gotten a lot easier since you'd found a way to admit that was what you wanted; a pusherfelt apology to Gamzee on the matter had left him waving you off with a confused expression and a disclaimer of ain't been no worry to me, bluebro, but he'd really deserved it (you'd been so _obvious_ and _unwanted_ when you were six sweeps old) (Issues with Aradia had been resolved in a different way, but in a fashion still eminently satisfactory to all parties). "You've been real quiet lately. Maybe I want to hear you make some noise for me."

"If that's what you want, I'm sure I can - _nn_ \- manage," you say as calmly as you can, considering that Dirk has fastened his mouth to the side of your neck like a lamprey and is working against the toughness of your Alternian hide to raise a mark. He has to work quite diligently to do so, since he doesn't have the sharp-edged dentition of a troll but you can feel the slow heat rising as he almost gnaws on you, making sure that you're going to bear his mark. Quite visibly, from the feel of it. You hold yourself still as his teeth nip at the bruise, almost as a finishing remark, before he pulls back. "Sir."

"You know, I fuckin' love that," he says, voice deepening as he drawls it out, and of horse that is why you said it. It makes you feel somewhat inwardly giddy to know just how much you can affect him. With such a small thing, only a word. Barely a syllable, at that. "I want to see your naked ass in the bedroom in the next five minutes. You get me, baby?"

"Yes, of course," you say thickly, because it's a little hard to concentrate when his fingers have moved around from behind your ear to the nape of your neck. Short-clipped nails gently dragging across the nape of your neck, Dirk's fingers spanning the base of your skull. The giddiness of allowing someone who isn't your moirail so close, and to such tender vulnerable places, makes your cardiopusher pump double-time. "But you'll have to let me up, first."

He leans forward, putting his head against your shoulder and laughs silently for a moment before standing and offering you his hand. The idea that you would need his assistance to get up is of horse, ludicross. But you let him, because it's nice to be treated like you may need it. People don't actually offer you assistance very often. Not physically, or in any other way. You'd been so trapped inside yourself before you met Nepeta, choking and drowning yourself with rules and regulations and etiquette, so at least even if you felt awkward and unsure, no one could say you'd done anything definitively wrong. Not according to the _rules_ , at least.

With Dirk, there are still rules. But you've agreed to them both beforehand, and you know even if you get it wrong, it's not the end of the galactic era. You both marely have a chance to try again.

"Five minutes," he says sternly, and you lick your lips and nod slightly before absconding in the direction of your mootual respiteblock. You would have loved a chance to shower, wash some of the sweat off but five minutes doesn't actually give you much time. It's a good thing that you know Dirk doesn't actually mind the way you perspire so excessively, and that your blocks are so conveniently close together. As it is, you're only just finished stripping hurriedly out of your gloves when he comes inside, putting them down on the slumber platformside table and then sliding your shades off your face to place them on top. As he comes towards you, you move your hands to clasp them behind your back, standing at parade rest or something close to it. Despite some old daymares, you've never actually been naked at parade, and you've certainly never been naked at parade with your bulge already half-unsheathed and nook dripping blue rivulets down your thighs.

"...I'm going to overlook that you weren't ready, this once."

"Thank you, sir." You make sure not to lock your knees as he comes over to you, walks around you like he's inspecting livestock on the auctionblock and you can feel your bulge slide out another half inch or so. Shivering, you wait for him to touch you. To tell you what to do. To _use_ you.

"And so you should be fuckin' grateful...now..." You wait, listening to him as he moves away from you to start rummaging through your closet and That Box. You shiver and keep your gaze forward, head steady. Waiting for him to show you what he's going to do to you is a painful pleasure all its own. You can feel the sweat running down the skin of your back, your chest, your thighs. Although possibly the last is just genematerial leaking from your nook; so shameful. But you don't want to stop what you are doing, and you could. If you wanted to. But you don't. "Alright, eyes closed, Zahhak. Don't look 'till I tell you to."

"Yes, sir." Obediently, you close your eyes and listen to Dirk moving around. You can hear him dropping things onto the slumberplatform that doubles as a concupiscentplatform when required and you enjoy the sense of helplessness that comes from standing still and doing absolutely nothing, while you wait for him to finish getting ready. You aren't expecting the slick fingers pressing against the entrance to your wastechute but after your quick inhale of surprise, you consciously relax to let him continue preparing you for...whatever it is he has in mind. 

His fingers probe slowly into your 'chute, spreading slickness deeper into your body. A shiver races down your spine and you try not to fidget and stay still, so he can do what he wants. It doesn't take long before he's removing his fingers and the cool smooth feel of moulded rubber replaces human warmth. You shiver, and remember not to grit your fangs as you're spread and filled with some kind of plug. You feel your eyelids flicker because when you shifted a little to feel the weight of the chuteplug, you felt something soft brush your thighs.

"You know I love watching you with something in your ass," Dirk says, and you feel his hand encircle your throat, push your chin up, thumb pressing against the side. You let him, breathing heavily as he tightens his grip for a moment, just enough to make you strain for air for just a moment. Swallowing, you try not to make it obvious how tight you need to close your eyes to keep from opening them to see what else he has planned. "And...I really _love_ the sounds you make when you want to cum and you can't."

You almost snort in surprise as you feel the painful grip of a bulgecurler close around the lower half of your bulge, the stiff prongs with their rounded ends and firm back of the clutching toy keeping your bulge from withdrawing into your sheath - or being able to curl around itself. Not more than just the top quarter, at least, and that is not in any way inducive to actually reaching orgasm. Dirk presses his lips against the soft spot under your ear as you struggle to keep upright for a moment, feeling the movement of the plug inside you and _again_ \- that strange soft tickle on the backs of your thighs. What _is_ that?

"You're being so good, babe," Dirk soothes, like he knows how close you are to just opening your eyes. The praise helps you settle again, and then he steps away for a moment. Ears twitching, you wait for him to come back and he does, with something that he gets you to open your mouth for. A mouldable rubber bar settles between your teeth and you can't help making a slightly confused noise around it as he eases it back into your mouth, and then you feel him strapping it into place around your head. You can feel how carefully he's doing the straps, making sure that none of your hair is caught in it, or under things in places where it'd pull. "Fuck, you look so good," he says in a low voice that goes straight to your imprisoned bulge and your nook aches for something inside it, the tease of being filled where you shouldn't and empty where it's natural to be filled making you sweat. He grips you around the muscular flex of your upper arm and gently turns you around, your senses buzzing in disorientation behind the shutter of your closed eyelids. "Ok, you can open your eyes."

Slowly, you open them to see what depraved state you're in. With your full and unreserved compliance, of horse, you're so _very_ aroused right now. You look absolutely filthy, the insides of your thighs painted blue from the rivulets running from your nook while your bulge tries vainly to move inside the grip of the restraining vice wrapped around it, your teeth gritted around what you can now see is the bit of a hoofbeast's halter. Or at least a facsimile, better suited for being on your head than the length of a hoofbeast's. Which brings to mind that strange soft touch, from behind... Dirk reads the inquisitive quirk of your eyebrows, and pulls to the side on the dangling reins attached to the halter, clicking his tongue a little as though you really were the beast of burden that should wear such a guiding device. You are sweating so _very_ much, but you can't help making a chirring trill around the barrier of the bit lying across your tongue and between your teeth.

The plug has a _tail_ on it, long enough to go to your knees, gracefully silken and black as the hair on your actual head. You're still holding your hands together at the small of your back, and you crane your head a little to look at yourself in the mirror running the height of your combined wardrobifier. That's. Well. That's. That's certainly something. Where the heck does Dirk find these things? You shudder as Dirk pulls at the reins, bringing your head down lower and closer to him, hand stroking your cheek and jaw as he kisses the side of your throat then nips almost gently at the lower part of your ear. He still manages to leave a sting.

"You want out, don't forget you can always just bust it," he says lowly, while you try to restrain yourself from putting all your weight onto him as you're pulled down into leaning on him. Stiffening your knees a bit - but not too much; fainting at parade rest from locking one's frond-hinges is a rookie mistake. "You want me to slow down, three taps on my thigh, arm or the headboard. You know you can always say stop, any time, Equius." He kisses you at the corner of your mouth, around the protruding edge of the bit and you can feel drool slipping down your chin, apparently not a barrier to being kissed at all. You're so hopelessly, stupidly flush for him, and never more then in moments like these. It's so udderly beneath you, beneath him to indulge you in these foolishly erotic exercises, and you don't want to stop. "God, you look _so good_..."

His voice sounds hot and pleased, and pretty smug if you were to hazard a guess as to what emotions he was experiencing right now. You can tell that he's aroused, because you can smell it on his skin when he gets closer to you and you know what it looks like when he's...ahem. When he has an _erection_ , as humans would term it. You're made more than sure when he grinds his groin against your side, and you can feel the heat trapped under the denim of his jeans. Sweat is trickling down your back, dampening the hair along your scalpline and every time you shift your feet, you can feel the plug move with you, the tail flicking against your bare skin. This is defoalnitely a human idea; but it's so ridiculously _lewd_ and _humiliating_ that you don't think you could talk even if you had your mouth ungagged. Just moan and pant and chirp like some pailworthy gutterblood.

All of this is so very, very beneath you and you _love_ it.

"You can see how gorgeous you look, right?" He turns your head enough, holding the reins close and tight in his hand by your jaw so you can't do anything _but_ look at yourself. The whole sweating ludicross picture. You whine against the pressure of the bit in your mouth, breathing heavily through the length of your nose, nostrils flared as his other hand moves down to grope your ass. Fingers pressing firmly into the muscle of your hindquarters, before he shifts so he can flick the bulgecurler with the tips of his fingers. You almost go pigeon-toed, letting out a muffled desperate sound at the _throb_ of sensation. It seems to travel through your bulge to your sheath, straight through to your nook. You drip more and faster across your whole body but especially from your nook, breathing raggedly as your bulge vainly tries to twist itself within the confines of the curler, spasming and aching with need. 

"I could take you out like this, put you through your paces. Show you off." You're punch-drunk with what he's saying and you'd nod along if you wouldn't snap the thin leather reins he's got attached to you at the hinge of either jaw. All you can do is lean against him and shudder, while his hand traces its way down between your legs, his hip hard against yours. You're getting him damp with sweat, but it doesn't seem to make him want to stop. 

"But I know what you really want. Something in here, ain't that right, big blue." His fingers delve deeper, underneath the base of your bulge and you warble in a disgracefoally high-pitched trill as one, two fingers slip into your nook. You're still looking at yourself in the mirror, and you can see his fingers sinking in past the first knuckle and blue soaking into the pale humanness of his skin. When he touches you, your colour is so vividly, intensely blue on him and you whine again, trying to turn your head gently to press your face into his shoulder. Overwhelmed with looking; perhoofs even mare with feeling. 

"No, c'mon. Look at yourself. Watch how much you want something in this needy fucking nook; I god damn love how hungry you are down here." He jerks a little at the reins and you have to look back, just in time to see (to feel) him spread your nook with his two fingers so even more preslurry dribbles out down his fingers, the curve of his hand where he's reaching down between your thighs and dripping down off his wrist to fall onto the floor in an increasingly larger puddle. All you can do is click and chirr, chest buzzing with the sounds you can't turn into words, saliva and sweat sliding down the column of your throat and down your chest. 

You're disgustingly wet and filthy in so many ways right now, and you can feel your nook trying to clench and ripple around his fingers to draw them in deeper, work them like a bulge to direct his hypothetical slurry to your seedflap. Flicka preserve you, but all you really want now is his cock. Directly applied to where it would work the most good, i.e. your nook. You moan at the thought, low and deeply, and he kisses the side of your sweating face before slowly pulling his fingers out. Wipes them on the inside of your thigh, but you don't know if that actually helps at all. If his intention is to get his hand clean. There's just so much slurry already there. 

"I'm gonna give you what you really want," he promises and all you can do is chirp at him mindlessly, wanting and needing, sweating and so ready to be used. Stepping unsteadily after him as he uses the reins to pull you, guide you in the direction that he wants to go - thankfilly towards the bed. You bend over it, supporting yourself with your palms flat on its firm surface as he lets the reins trail down over your shoulders for now, Every so often, you shiver and the plug reasserts itself to your consciousness with a heavy feeling. Dirk sweeps the tail to one side, letting it fall over your hip and you keen softly at the implications, such a simple but demeaning gesture. Shift on your feet and widen your stance more, offering yourself up as blatantly as you can without words while sweat runs down your forehead and into your eyes, stinging.

You close them for a moment, hearing Dirk removing his jeans and underwear, belt clicking a little with metallic ticks as he undoes it and drops his pants to the floor behind you. Usually you'd ask him to pick them up, but you can't and hoofnestly the only thing that matters to you right now is getting his stiff human bonebulge inside your nook as soon as possible. 

Your wish is swiftly granted and you shout around the gag, unable to muffle yourself into the bedding the way you might usually as Dirk takes you by the hips and drives his whole shaft into you in one hard thrust. The blunt end hits your seedflap and your whole nook spasms in its usual instinctive confusion of being presented with something hot and rigid, instead of mobile and flexible, and potentially quite a lot cooler than the average human being. It feels _so_ good, the way he grabs onto you and starts to pound into your nook, taking you from behind. 

This is honestly one of your favourite positions. It makes you feel so diminished, utterly ravaged. And apparently Dirk has found the foreplay of dressing you in the accoutrements of a hoofbeast just as intense as you have, because he's showing an unusual amount of vigour. It's a good thing you're as strong as you are, in every part of you, or your nook might not be able to take it. As it is, you can feel your elbows weakening until they give out and you wind up face-first in the sheets as Dirk thrusts into you from behind. _Fiddlesticks_ , but you can feel his cock rubbing against the plug still firmly ensconced in your 'chute and the whole sensation is quite - electric. You can't - you can't - oh fuck, you want to cum, you want to spill so badly but you _can't_ -

The pressure of your shameglobes is urgent and pressing, but all you can do is writhe and take it as Dirk ploughs into you from behind, hips slapping firmly against your ass with a distinctly wet sound. You're sweating so hard. You moan and chirp, whole thorax buzzing as you beg him with instinctual sounds to finish, to _fill_ you. You need - oh you _need_ so much. 

Anything, as long as he doesn't stop. You'll die if he stops.

Dirk's whole hand grabs you by your hair and pulls your face out of the platform's snuggleplanes, making you almost wail as his cock seems to somehow find a new and terribly pleasurable place in your nook to ram into as he fucks you. You'd beg, if you could. As it is, you're trying to slur something, anything, around the bit to plead with him to take off the bulgecurler so you can finally _cum_. 

He bites you hard somewhere on the shoulder near your neck and this time you actually do scream. His hips crammed up tight against your ass, cock fully sheathed in your nook as he shudders against you and spills white-hot liquid inside you. Not enough; never enough, but enough to let you know he's finished. You're almost sobbing with frustration as he pulls out and then pushes at your hip to get you to fall over on your back on the bed. Without your express desire, your hips jerk upwards, trying to gain mercy for your imprisoned bulge. Horrorterrors above and below, please, anything.

"Fuck," he mutters, leaning over you and almost crawling onto the bed beside you, hair ruffled and shades gone at some point, you don't know when. Usually you'd just want to gaze into his eyes, but now you have more pressing matters on your mind. You grab onto the sheets so you don't grab Dirk by mistake, your claws digging through the cloth with faint ripping noises that you mare than easily ignore. " _Fuck_ , Equius, god you're so fucking pretty, gorgeous, so fuckin' sexy, c'mon, I wanna see you cum for me, sweetheart, all over the fuckin' bed, c'mon..."

Long dexterous fingers undo and remove the clamping vice around your bulge, and he shoves three fingers into your nook. You convulse and do precisely what you're told; spilling blue genematerial across the platform as your heels dig into the solidness of it, and your back arches almost to the point of breaking. Oh. Oh goodness. Your whole thinkpan lights up with delayed, explosive ecstasy and that's, as your moirail would say, all she wrote.

When you come to, which is what it feels like at least, Dirk is carefully working the halter off your head and the bit out of your mouth. You cough and he wipes your mouth, and you yawn widely for a maremount before closing it again, feeling the ache of having your teeth propped apart for so long in your jaw. Hhn. You start to turn towards him then yelp at the unexpected feeling of the plug jerking haphazardly in your wastechute, since you'd just rolled onto the tail end of it and almost pulled the whole thing out. A very disconcerting sensation. Dirk smothers a laugh and you focus the full feeling of betrayal that smothered chuckle brought to your cardiopump on the treacherous human who finds amusement in your post-sex travails with a heavy stare, trying to cut into him with your oculars.

Neighdless to say, he doesn't look very repentant. 

"That wasn't, mmm, very funny," you say lazily, still feeling like you can barely feel your fingers or toes. That had. Certainly. Been some orgasm. You wouldn't want to have it like that every time, of horse, there is such a thing as too much of a good thing but...mmm. Obligingly, you spread your legs to allow him access to get the gosh darned thing out. Which he does, carefully and slowly but you hiss through your fangs all the same. "Hhhk. _Ugh_."

"Don't like it once you've cum, huh," Dirk says and drops the dirtied toys onto a towel, wrapping them up together and putting them to one side. You'd missed the telltale rustle of the plastic sheet on the bed _before_ , but you can hear it now. You'd had other things to focus on. He really does plan ahead and you enjoy that, so very much. You adore so much about him, you never would have thought you'd be here...now...like this. Happy. Just...happy. And very, very well pailed, which is really just a bonus when you consider every other thing that Dirk does for you. 

Leaning up to Dirk, you kiss him slowly and feel him rub a wet facecloth across your chest and down to your sheath and nook. Bonebulge now safely tucked away and genital plating reasserting itself to seal your nook off from outside influences. 

"No. Would you?" you ask, taking a moment to stretch. You suppose in a moment, you'll have to help Dirk strip the bed. Clean up a little. And shower, most defoalnitely. He shrugs and makes a considering noise, before handing you a bottle of water as you sit up. There's a second on the bedside table that he picks up for himself, both of you taking a moment of repose before going on to ardous task of properly cleaning up both your surroundings and yourselves.

"Mm. Probably not." He takes a contemplative sip of his drink, before continuing in a mild tone that by now, you really should distrust. "Guess I'll just have to fuck you in the ass next time, huh?"

You cough, choke and spray water across the room, crumpling the bottle in your fist into a twisted mockery of itself and sending more water cascading over the bed. For once, Dirk actually laughs, a soft wheezing chuckle as he slaps you on the back as you try to cough up the water you accidentally inhaled into your aeration sacks. That was - he -

He's so _very_ terrible. 

"Was that a no?" he teases, and you shake your head slightly. Not able to look at him and knowing your ears are turning blue at the tips from the sudden embarrassment you're feeling at having reacted so strongly, to such an off the cuff comment. But now you're thinking about what it's like if he's...when he... You blush, and take a moment to wipe your mouth for the second time. 

When he kisses you, you carefully put your hand on his shoulder and just sink into it. Maybe this isn't what is meant for someone like you, and it isn't what you deserve. But you're lucky enough to have it anyway, and that's enough.


End file.
